Fine
I’m slowly losing track of who I was. The other day it hit me: somewhere there’s a body running around with my name on it, leading a committee probably or picking fruit from a scissor lift or counting inventory on aisle 5. Giving directions to strangers from the street corners of cities whose names won’t mean anything to you or I, or anyone living for that matter. Just laddy-dah, hands in his pockets, whistlin’ away. […]